


Five Times Anakin Was Uncivilized and One Time Obi-Wan Didn’t Mind

by Nisa



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin is so uncivilized, Angst and Fluff, Falling In Love, Ice Cream, Jedi in love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 10:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9487943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nisa/pseuds/Nisa
Summary: It's all in the title. :)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [temple_mistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/temple_mistress/gifts).



> I would have never written any of this without you, Laura. Thank you so much for all your ideas, encouragement and help! ♥

*

“Oh Force, look at you! Your table manners are so uncivilized!”

Obi-Wan is stricken by the harshness of his own tone and bites his lip the moment the words escape his mouth, but there is no way taking them back. Anakin just stares at him, his hand frozen in mid air, and swallows. He might not even know the meaning of this word, Obi-Wan realizes in the back of his mind, just as he is unfamiliar with the entire concept of civility.

“I’m sorry, Master Obi-Wan, Sir.”

Anakin hastily puts the nerf steak he has been gripping in his hand back on the plate and makes a movement to lick his fingers, then freezes again, aware that this, too, must be something he is doing wrong.

Obi-Wan just sighs.

“I only meant that we will need to work on your manners,” he says more softly, almost apologetically. “You will need them no less than you will need your lightsaber, because first and foremost we are peacekeepers and negotiators. But we can talk about that later. Now finish your dinner.”

Anakin does not move, looking down at his hands with dirty nails.

“I’m not hungry, Master," he says in a small voice. "May I go to my room?”

“Of course.”

Obi-Wan is not hungry either. Suddenly he knows that he will never be a good Master, and this knowledge weighs like a cold heavy stone in his chest.

He tries his best to ignore the tears pricking his eyes as he remembers Qui-Gon for yet another time.

 

*

Obi-Wan exhales slowly and pinches the bridge of his nose. Relax. All he has to do is relax, stay focused and remember the book on humanoid child psychology he has studied in the Temple Archives. He should have brought with him the notes he made while reading.

The opposite wall is colored crimson with the light of the setting sun. The negotiations started at dawn and there has been no progress so far. He should have anticipated the difficulties from the mere fact that the Governor is only ten.  After all, he himself has a Padawan of practically the same age.

Cheerful voices, chatter and bursts of laughter distract him from his musings. He looks out of the window, and his jaw drops at the sight of the two boys running through the gates.

They are barely recognizable, all covered in thick mud from head to toes, their clothes a dull brown, the same color as their faces and hair.  The sleeve of the Governor's laced shirt is half-torn and his golden pendant is swinging casually in his hand. When he notices Obi-Wan, he straightens up and puts it back on his neck, but Obi-Wan pays no attention to him at all.

He is not the one who has forgotten all about Jedi dignity for the sake of some mindless fun. Obi-Wan’s ears burn with shame. 

“I only suggested we play His Highness’s favorite game,” Anakin says defensively halting at the threshold, muddy water dripping from his Padawan braid. “And then talk a bit.”

Obi-Wan can barely contain his annoyance.

“Look at you…” he starts, but the Governor’s voice interrupts him.

"Master Jedi, we have talked and I agree to sign this treaty now."

Obi-Wan is confused. He squints down at Anakin as they walk along the corridor to the throne room, and Anakin looks up, only his eyes clear and bright on his face covered with a layer of drying dirt.

"I wanted to help, Master," he whispers. 

"Quite an unorthodox way of conducting negotiations," Obi-Wan whispers back, trying for stern. A slight quirk in his mouth does not escape Anakin, whose face lights up immediately with a happy and easy grin, and Obi-Wan finds he cannot be angry with him any longer.

 

*

"No! For goodness sake, you are coming with me now!!!"

Obi-Wan grabs Anakin by the hand, dragging him to the exit of the bar like a misbehaving youngling. This would not be so easy if Anakin was putting up a fight because now he's as physically strong as his Master, and, Force help Obi-Wan, _taller,_ but he doesn't seem to resist. However, once they are outside, Anakin stops and snatches his hand away.

"Do you always have to spoil the fun, Master?" he says sullenly.

Obi-Wan has been sick with worry, looking for him everywhere for the past two hours, and now seeing Anakin, _his_ Anakin, sway on his feet turns his worry into near panic.   
  
"Fun?! Anakin, look at you! What's wrong with you?! You are a Jedi and you are _drunk!!!"_

Anakin crosses his arms on his chest defiantly.

"And so what? You're a Jedi, too, and I saw you drinking with Quinlan more times than you can remember!"

"That's different! Kriff, Anakin, you are only sixteen! And what were thinking, _flirting_ out there!"

Obi-Wan recalls the face of the humanoid in the bar and the way he was looking at Anakin, hiding a dirty smirk in his beard, and it makes him so furious Obi-Wan loses all of his composure.

"With a man about twice your age!!!" he shouts.

Passers-by turn their heads and eye appendages to look at the two Jedi. Anakin stares at him for a moment, taken aback, and then starts shaking with laughter.

"And this is _so uncivilized_! Right? Right?! Oh, Force... Oh, you're _so_ funny Master!"

Still laughing, he goes from defiant to defeated in a split second and wipes angrily at his eyes.

There must be a reason for this abrupt change of mood, but Obi-Wan finds he does not want to know.

 

*

"No."

The word is short and simple, but it explodes in the air like a bomb, and the silence that follows is deafening.

Obi-Wan lifts his head from the cot and blinks, wondering if he has misheard and this all is just a trick of his fevered brain. Anakin is standing very straight, his hands clasped behind his back, his face pale in the blue light of the small hologram.  Here in the cave the signal is weak and Master Windu’s voice comes through distorted, but even that does not prevent him from sounding appalled.

“Excuse me, Skywalker, can you repeat that? The signal is below satisfactory.”

“I said no, Master Windu,” Anakin says with an outward calm, but there is an edge to his voice and the Force around him is a riot of emotions. “I am not coming. Skywalker out.”

“Fuck off,” he adds under his breath as soon as the bright holo image flickers out.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan rises on an elbow, ignoring his spinning head and the nauseating weakness. “Anakin, are you out of your right mind? Have you just disobeyed a direct order from the Council?!”

Anakin walks over to him and sits down, bringing his hand up to fumble nervously with his Padawan braid, which is no longer there. He seems shocked by his own behavior, and Obi-Wan summons up all the authority he can in his voice:

“Call Master Windu back now. Tell him you are coming.”

Anakin shakes his head. “No, Master.”

“Anakin,” the effort of speaking is exhausting, but Obi-Wan fights against himself. “Look at you. You’ve barely been knighted. What are you doing, turning the Jedi Council against you?”

“I don’t care, Master!” Anakin jumps to his feet in anger. “Their orders are fucking ludicrous, can’t you see that? We’ve still got a city to retake, our troops are outnumbered and you are hurt! Why in the Sith hell should I go escort some stupid politician?!”

Obi-Wan can see black spots swimming before his eyes and lays his head down.

“They have a larger picture we cannot see from here, Anakin.”

“No. They just think we are expendable.”

The bitterness in Anakin’s voice is something new, but then so is the extent of his defiance, and Obi-Wan is not sure what to make of that. He is so tired he could lie there forever, soothed by the tender warmth of the Force flowing through him at the command of it’s Chosen One, who is kneeling beside him, eyes closed in concentration, his expression both gentle and hurt.

“Still this behavior is unacceptable,” murmurs Obi-Wan, but his heart aches at the knowledge that these are not the words he is longing to say.

 

*

“Anakin, how many times do I have to tell you that we are going to be late?”

Obi-Wan tries his best not to sound irritated as he glances at the chrono on the wall of their common room.  For the last fifteen minutes or so, he has been all dressed up and ready to set off. The mere thought of having to spend the entire morning in the company of boring and pompous politicians, discussing military strategy with people who have never been in action, is enough to darken his mood. The fact that he is talking to a closed door does not make things better, either.

“Oh, come on! Wasn’t it you who told me I have to look _appropriate_?” Anakin appears in the doorway, still wearing an undertunic, his hair ruffled. His tone is annoyed, but once he sees Obi-Wan in his impeccable attire, he smiles sheepishly. “How am I supposed to choose something appropriate and do it _quickly?_ ”

Obi-Wan shakes his head, more affectionate than exasperated, and finds himself staring at the strand of curly hair sticking out behind Anakin’s ear, completely out of place, dark golden in the morning sun.

“Look at you! It is time you had your hair cut,” he mutters, strangely unsettled.

Anakin shrugs.

“I don’t think so. What’s the point in that? It’ll grow again. Besides, I’m not your Padawan any longer, right?”

The truth in his words is obvious, still Obi-Wan feels the urge to insist and says more sternly than he should:

“You definitely should. It makes you look…”

 _Dangerously handsome,_ offers a little voice in his head, which by no means can belong to a Jedi Master. Obi-Wan looks away, appalled at himself, and stutters: “Unbecoming… of a Jedi.”

“Ha! If that was the only thing!”

The door closes again and Obi-Wan frowns, more troubled than he should be.

 

*

"All right. Ithorian vanilla's good. Now what about this one? Strawberry, uh-huh... I want to try this one, Master."

Anakin's expression is all innocent curiosity as he reaches out for another small container of ice cream. Obi-Wan chuckles softly, watching him in the semi-darkness of their room.

Anakin's trying the previous flavors took them quite some time, and the ice cream is half melted by now. It tastes cold and sweet in Obi-Wan's mouth as he takes a spoonful, but the cold is instantly replaced by the heat of Anakin's tongue swirling around his, and the sweetness lingers. He moans involuntarily, sliding his hand into the tangle of curls at the back of Anakin's head.

"Mmm... Delicious!" Anakin grins against his lips, tilting his head slightly. "Oh, look at you, Master. You've got ice cream all over your beard. One might think you've become kind of... uh...uncivilized?"

"I learned from the best," Obi-Wan murmurs breathlessly, overcome with a wave of heat as Anakin moves closer, straddling his lap. 

"That's right. You taught me everything I know and I taught you how to be uncivilized."

Obi-Wan twirls one of Anakin's messy curls around his finger, rubbing their noses together.

"Not only that."

"No? Hmm, what else could it be? Telling edible mushrooms from poisonous ones?"

"I believe _everything I have become_  will not be an overstatement."

Anakin's eyes fly open and his smile turns from cocky into tremulous in the instant he realizes that Obi-Wan is being serious.

"Everything I know about compassion, and forgiveness, and love." Obi-Wan is surprised how easy it is to say what he has been unable to admit for so long.  His voice breaks a little as he tries to tame a wild rush of love and guilt that threatens to overwhelm him. Anakin just stares at him, speechless, his eyes wide and very bright.

"About mushrooms, too," adds Obi-Wan, placing a reverent kiss on his lips.

"Well then, Master..." Anakin says with a shaky laughter. "I guess it is... good, because you won't poison yourself?"

"It certainly does sounds reassuring. But ice cream poses an even lesser threat.  So what are we trying next?"

"You choose."

"My favorite then," murmurs Obi-Wan and pulls him for an adoring, hungry and passionate kiss. 


End file.
